The Campaign, or A Short Lesson on the Problems of Negative Politics
by JuliaGulia3799
Summary: AU story regarding a fictional election between Aragorn and Sauron for ruler of Middle Earth. Definitely not cannon. This may be classified as demented or hilarious, depending on your point of view.


The Campaign

(A short lesson on the problems of negative politics)

By Julia

Staring: Aragorn, Sauron, misc. orcs and elves, some Hobbits and some patrons of a Laketown pub. I only own original characters (i.e. the ones Tolkien didn't put in his books!), so don't bother suing me. Plus, no money anyhow! And not making any on this story…

Warnings: Definitely AU! So far AU it is insane.

Rated: PG-13 for language

 **The Committee to Elect Sauron** :

The smell of fresh coffee filled the room as men and women in smart business suits filed in and seated themselves at the long table. Orc butlers shuffled in and out on miscellaneous errands, delivering donuts and mugs. Finally, the last business man hurried in, briefcase in tow, mumbling quietly.

The clock on the far wall ticked over to mark the hour, and immediately the room fell to a hush. As soon as silence prevailed, a screen at the opposite side of the room flickered on, and a blazing fiery eye glared at the occupants. The Eye spoke—or rather words seemed to emanate from its direction, because no one could see a mouth, or any orifice for that matter, move _on_ the eye.

"Assembled here are the most unethical, diabolical, cunning and evil genius marketing executives alive. You are here to design the greatest ad campaign in history for me—Sauron, the Dark Lord," the Eye seemed to laugh evilly. "I will win the election for Dictator of Middle Earth!" he roared. "Now…. How do you plan to make me win?"

The executives looked back and forth at each other for some time. Several people cleared their throats. Finally, one man stood. "Well, the eyeball is kind of a major turn off. There's no way you can win." He sat down, looking smug. He was then unceremoniously dropped to a fiery death below with the flick of a floor board.

"Wrong answer!" bellowed the Eye.

Then a woman stood. "Well, he is right in that the whole eye thing is creepy—BUT—we can fix that. If we give you a pair of cool sunglasses, say Dulce & Gabbana or NASCAR, we could angle your campaign off a 'mystery cool guy' persona. People love that!"

The Eye seemed to ponder that. "Good. Get me makeup, and let's get started."

The filming crew shot the Eye, now is uber cool sunglasses, behind a moving desert background on the Gorgoroth plain. The lady exec cut the film, and sat thinking for a minute. Suddenly, she snapped her fingers with a stroke of brilliance.

"Music! Get me some Steppenwolf, people!"

In minutes, 'Born to be Wild' was over-dubbed into the finished ad.

"Let's run it!" commanded the Eye.

 **A Pub in Laketown** :

"Hey, Damon, get a load o' this on the telly!" Berter hollered. His mate, the other six patrons and the barkeep crowded around the small flickering screen. A new commercial, one of those "political ads", was playing.

"Catchy tune, tha'."

"I think the sunglasses are ace!"

"Look at the bloody flames! Smashin'!"

At the end of the ad, a message appeared: " _Elect the coolest guy on the face of Arda to be your leader. Think of how popular you'll be when everyone finds out you made the right choice. Vote Sauron for Dictator and Overlord, and send Aragorn a message to stay out of office—and get into a bath!_ "

"Right, I'm votin' fer 'im!"

"Sod it, me too!"

And thus begun the trouble.

 **The Committee to Re-Elect the Potentate (Aragorn), aka "CREEP"** :

"I just cannot believe this!" Aragorn fumed as he threw down the _Manly Herald_ onto the table with a loud slap. Arwen attempted to calm him with a song, but this was perhaps not the best time to remind Aragorn he was not an elf and she could sing prettier than him. "Be quiet, lady! I can't even think right now! Aaaaaarrrrrrggggg!"

Legolas, as usual, was the pragmatic one. "Look Aragorn, you can't expect a Laketown poll to be reflective of the greater population, OR the realistic chances of Sauron winning this race. Everyone knows you're the King of the Reunited Kingdom and all that, so calm down, Scruffy!"

Aragorn shot him a death glare after the "scruffy" comment, but seemed to be slightly mollified. His pacing decreased from raving mad carpet destroyer mode to a mere slightly worn tread.

Elrond raised his massive eyebrows and carried on with the positive thoughts while Aragorn seemed approachable. "Legolas is correct, Estel. We can easily combat this with our own tactics. Perhaps hiring a consulting firm would be best. I know an Elven firm in Lorien that would take our case."

Aragorn thought a moment, before nodding. He would run for re-election, and strike back with the same tactics of the enemy. Fight fire, with fire—now if only he could set himself alight without burning….

The Lorien elves put together an idea for an ad campaign blitz that would knock the socks off of Sauron's silly advert. And since Aragorn had more access to money for commercials, his chances for gaining special interest group attention was higher, as well as getting his message heard by the general populace.

 **A Pub in Laketown:**

"I said I'm not gonna play bloody darts with that stupid… would ya look at tha'?" Berter stopped mid-sentence to stare at the flashing screen over the bar.

"Who is that really hot babe?" Every pair of eyes was immediately glued to the image on the television. Aragorn was standing in front of the grand white tower at Minas Tirith, with his arm wrapped around Arwen in a pink mini-skirt.

Aragorn flashed a grin at the camera, and started to stroll. "I'm sure you've all seen my, ahem, opponent's high-priced advertisement, but have you heard anything he's had to say? No. He has declined a public debate, and the only issue he will take a stand on is Oliphant rights in the Near Harad. Well folks, I'm here today with my lovely wife to tell you that I, Aragorn, King of the Re-United Kingdom, care about YOU, and the issues that affect us all."

The screen cut to a scene of Aragorn and Arwen, dressed regally on their thrones, with a voice-over: " _Do you want a warm, family man who is concerned with important issues like family values and agricultural relief? Aragorn is passionate about these issues, and has maintained his pledge to honor these promises. Sauron is a miserly, evil eyeball, without a good record of family values or even basic human interaction. Voting for Sauron is voting for poor crop yields, an end to public education, and widespread unemployment. Vote for Aragorn, and let your voice be heard_."

"Blimey, if they put her on with a bikini, I'd vote for him any day."

"Yeah, that Aragorn bloke seems more on the up and up than Sauron. _He_ never takes off his sunglasses."

"I'll buy everyone a round, and drink to Aragorn and his hot wife."

"HEAR HEAR!"

 **Two weeks later…**

"Bugger. There's another one of those negative ads that 'Aragorn the Arrogant' has been running." Half the pub cursed into their mugs.

"Can't you shut that bloody thing off?" The Barkeep shook his head.

"Then we'd hav' ta listen ta YEW gab all night!" Ripped laughter echoed.

"Bloody better than this crap."

The commercial was set to a black backdrop, and showed scenes of fiery volcanoes and the Black Gate. " _Sauron lives in a wasteland of pollution and bare rock. His environmental policies are not only out-dated, but have destroyed all life forms within Mordor." The scene changed to the plush croplands of Pelennor. "Aragorn has encouraged technological advances in plowing and waste management to help the environment, as well as providing aid to poorer farmers." The scene changed again to the tower of Barad-Dur. "Sauron: bad for farmers, bad for the environment, bad for business, bad for YOU. Vote for Aragorn for ruler of Middle Earth._ "

"Why is it that they won't put that hot lady in a bikini?" A chorus of mumbled "dunnos" filled the room.

"At least Sauron ain't runnin' all these annoyin' ads." Several heads nodded.

 **Barad Dur Election Central** :

"The polls are beginning to turn against Aragorn." The latest of the recruited ad execs reported to Sauron. The previous ones with poor ideas had been given an alternative assignment in the lava pit of Mount Doom. "My bet is that there is not enough sex appeal in his ads. But that doesn't affect the negative aspects he's scoring against you—what we need is a focused attack on him. Something that will alienate the average schmuck."

"Exactly. We should fight fire, with fire!" A lady exec in a bright red suit and too much lipstick added.

Suddenly, another exec with a badly rumpled suit burst in the door. He doubled over, breathing heavily.

"You have 3 seconds to explain your disruption before I have you tossed into Mt. Doom." The Eye demanded in a voice loud enough to rattle bass in the speakers.

"Your evilness," gasp, pant, "I've found the perfect thing to use against Arago… wait, I mean that upstart wannabe King…" the exec trailed off, expecting a burst of flames for his slip-up.

"AND?!" Again rumbled the speakers.

"I have photos—taken with a telescopic lens—of that upstart wannabe King in a "drinking and sweaty man wrestling" competition with Gimli and a room full of dwarves!"

The lady with too much lipstick gasped in wicked glee. "It will be perfect, my Evil Overlord! I know just how to use it!"

The newest recruit suggested using it to paint Aragon as a closet homosexual. This idea was roundly shot down, with all of the execs thinking (but absolutely not saying) that Sauron's flaming eyeball image could get rebounded poorly with a cheap shot like that.

"Leave it to me! I will have the perfect ad running by end of business tomorrow!" The lady said, eyes glowing with diabolical intent.

 **A Pub in Laketown:**

"Oh fer pity's sake! Not _this_ again!" A bar patron thumped his head on the table. "This is the fecking ninth time tonight."

"Whatcha think of throwing out the TV?"

"Yew bloody try it and I will kick yer arse back to the First Age!" The barkeep shouted. "That damn TV was expensive!" It's not like electronics were easy to come by, what with the electronics elf union on strike for increased wages.

Horror film-style music in a black background. Suddenly, a picture image of Aragon wrestling with dwarves in black and white pops up on the screen. The image is frozen, but a single drop of sweat is CGI'd to appear to drip off of Aragon, and the camera pans down to follow its slow path to the floor. " _Aragon talks about environmental policies, but is too concerned with special interests to bother with regular bathing. First elves, now dwarves—who have only encouraged his poor hygiene. What does this tell us about his character, or his focus on important issues? That he cannot be bothered. Not with the ordinary man, and not with bathing. Who wants a smelly leader as ruler of Middle Earth? Not us. Paid for by the Committee to Elect Sauron."_

"What I don't get is what the hell this guy is promising. What does all this shite about Aragon say about Sauron's platform?"

"Hey guys, Ernie is getting all… _existential_ on us!" Hoots of laughter filled the bar. Ernie glared.

"Doesn't make me wrong, does it?" he muttered into his beer.

 **CREEP Headquarters** :

"…maybe if we showed more of my manly stubble." Aragorn pondered, palming his be-stubbled chin and gazing in a near trance at the mirror.

"Honey, I am just not sure that is the way to go." Arwen sighed (for the twelfth time since the newest polls were released).

A message by carrier pigeon interrupted their conversation. Arwen reached over and took the message, then read it aloud.

" _Got damaging pic for campaign. Orc cleanliness scandal. Making new commercial now. –Lorien Ads for Lords and Ladies._ "

"You know, I just don't get why those elves can't get with the Fourth Age, I mean, I have this unlimited texting plan, but do they use it? Noooo, they haven't even upgraded to freakin' phone calls…" Aragorn grumbled, playing with his shiny new touch phone.

"Which part of that message did you hear, if any? Baby, things are looking up, and close to election, too! The Lorien firm got photo dirt to use in the campaign! I can't wait to see the pilot ad!" Arwen glided out of the room with a sensuous grace to wait by the DVD player for the pilot.

Aragorn stared after her, pouting. "So not fair. I wanna see it on my new phone. But do they use the text attach video feature? Noooo…."

 **A Pub in Laketown [two nights before the election]:**

The commercial opened with a single black and white photo of two orcs, mid-roll in a pile of manure. Several others cheered them on from the sidelines. They all wore "Elect Sauron" t-shirts over their armor. The voiceover played over the single-tone low ominous note: " _Sauron likes to accuse others of poor hygiene, but clearly that is the pot calling the kettle black. There is no shame here, but there should be. Do you want smelly orcs all over Middle Earth? In your homes, on your couches, taking away your children for forced labor? That's what will happen if Sauron wins this election. Think of the children. Vote for Aragorn. Paid for by CREEP_."

Ernie belched loudly over his beer, and called out to his mates "Tha's so bloody disgusting, I think I'm gonna…" and he proceeded to turn his head and vomit on his neighbor, who immediately jumped up to avoid the spray, and only managed to fall onto the adjoining table, spilling all of the drinks. Loud cries and groans echoed around the bar.

"Eh! My drink!"

"Watch it, ya git!"

"Oy, you better buy me a replacement!"

Ernie, having recovered from being sick, decided it was time to launch into a political discourse. "You just can't do enough to protect the kids. Orcs are such bad influences anymore. Everyone knows that they lead good kids straight out their school house doors and directly into forges, brothels and the lot."

"You know what, Ernie? You talk all the time about kids, but since you DON'T HAVE ANY, do us all a favor and shut the feck up!" Several boos at Ernie followed.

The door blew open with a cold gust of air that knocked Ernie off his bar stool and onto his ass. The bar erupted with laughter; hoots and hollers filled the room, especially after they looked down and saw who was responsible. All 4'1" of Peregrin "Pippin" Took stood in the doorway, his face plastered with a huge grin. Meriador "Merry" Brandybuck followed behind him, rolling his eyes.

The two hobbits went up to the bar, and Damon clapped Pippin on his back. "Nice work with ol' Ernie over there!" More laughter followed.

"Thanks, mate!" Pippin slapped a Gondorian coin on the counter and ordered two pints for himself and Merry.

"You know whot I think—we need someone running that doesn't run all these bloody stupid commercials all the time, and does stuff for me." Berter said, continuing the theme from before.

"Like what? Buy you beer?" The barkeep answered with a leer.

"That's a bloody good place to start!"

Pippin looked around, and jumped up onto the bar.

"Eh, mate, get off!" The barkeep tried to whack him with his towel, which Pippin neatly dodged.

"I'll tell you all what! I will buy everyone a round of drinks and keep you supplied for the rest of the night—provided you vote for me tomorrow at the elections!" A cheer went up, as the barkeep scrambled to fill tankards. "And I'll buy a drink on Election Day to anyone who writes in my name on the ballot!" Pippin dropped a pouch of gold coins on the bar, which were quickly snatched by the barkeep and thrust into his pocket.

"You have to do two more things, mate." One of the patrons shouted.

"And what's that?" Pippin replied, after taking a swig of his beer and belching loudly.

"Promise no more commercials for bloody one!" Yelled back another guy.

"And arrest Sauron and Aragorn for being such twits!" The first patron replied. Another cheer went up, and the men clanked their tankards in salute. The patrons were well supplied with drinks that night, and enjoyed the show of Pippin and Merry dancing on a table until they fell off. The word spread quickly beyond the pub, thanks in part to twitter feeds and texts from person to person, as well as a viral you-tube video that one of the patrons posted online from a cell phone video. Soon men as far away as Rohan and Dol Amroth heard of the promise for beer and an end to ridiculous negative ads.

 **Election Day. Central polling counting station in Rohan.**

The election commissioner was in his office after a long day of polls, pouring over reports on voter turnout in the Reunited Kingdom and Mordor.

His door burst open and his assistant ran in, waiving a piece of paper in his hand like a banner. "We have the final results, sir!" The man nearly burst a blood vessel in his excitement.

"Well, let me see it!" The commissioner snatched the document away and looked at the final sums. "I don't believe it! How is this possible? Milford, get me the Gondorian Rangers—we must alert the winner immediately!"

 **A pub in Laketown.**

All eyes were tuned on the TV. With the election now over, finally, the advertisements would end.

"This is Hama, reporting live from the Office of the Election Commission here in Rohan. The final results are in, and the winner of the election for leader of the world is… write in candidate, Pippin Took of the Shire!" The patrons cheered, and patted each other on the back.

"Right, that is free drinks for all us tonight, mates!" Berter proclaimed loudly.

The barkeep smiled widely. At this rate, he could afford to retire next month.

 **CREEP Headquarters** :

"WHAT?!" In his haste jumping out of his chair, Aragon single-handedly managed to knock over no less than three "epitome of grace" elves. "I knew I should have paid more attention to cleaning up the Shire after the war…" Aragorn yelled as he punched a hole in the wall.

 **Barad Dur** :

"AAHHHHH!" Bursts of flame shot up around the board table, and the ad execs were heard screaming as far away as the Black Gate.

 **In both CREEP Headquarters and Barad Dur simultaneously** :

The doors burst open, and teams of Gondorian Rangers quickly swooped in. Cuffs were slapped on Aragorn, and Sauron's digital "eye" projector was turned off when a Ranger removed the flash drive from the projector screen. The Rangers left as silently as they came. Witnesses stared in abject astonishment, and no small amount of relief.

 **A pub in Laketown** :

The patrons saluted, holding up their drinks at the TV as Pippin's image approached the podium at the Election pressroom. He couldn't see over it, so he ordered one of the security guards get down on all fours, and Pippin stood on his back. He gave a wide smile to the camera. "Ladies and Gentlemen of Middle Earth. Thank you for electing me to be your new Ruler. Rest assured, the promises of free drinks will be held up. The new motto of my Administration is going to be "the Shire Mafia has your back _and_ your beer!" I have ordered the arrests of both Aragon and Sauron. They are even as we speak, rotting away in a dark, dank dungeon at an undisclosed location. They will never again bother you with their inane and negative election campaigns."

This final part was met with loud and raucous cheers both at the press conference and the pub. Pippin waited for the noise to die down before continuing. "My first act of office will be to legalize pipe weed in all of Middle Earth…."

 **A dark, dank, dungeon at an undisclosed location** :

Aragorn rolled his eyes and head up, while pulling at the chains on his arms with a sigh. A small projector played Sauron's eye, behind holographic cell bars. Sauron growled.

"You realize this is all _your_ damn fault." Aragon stated in a flat voice.

"Oh shut up, Scruffy! Next time, just recant while you're ahead!"

"Oy! Quiet in there or I'll bring in the water boarding equipment!" Merry yelled from outside the cell.

"Evil bastard." Aragon muttered.

"Jack ass." Sauron hissed.

"Right! I'll show you lot the meaning of torture!" And there was only screaming from then on…

Author's Note:

And that is the trouble with negative ads. That and karma is a bitch. A simple story for the election season, with a moral. I make no apologies for my deranged mind. Obviously, this is not meant to be cannon so reviews commenting on how it doesn't make sense or follow the timeline will be laughed at.


End file.
